The Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom (30 page)

“Thank you, Duncan,” said Liam. “I actually kind of liked that.”

“Yes, marching off to a deadly showdown has been much more enjoyable this time around,” Frederic said. “I really do wish we’d been able to get our horses back, though.”

“Me too,” Duncan said.

“You didn’t lose a horse,” Gustav reminded him.

“Not on
this
trip,” Duncan said. “But I lost one a few months ago. His name was Papa Scoots. I rode him down to the stream to look for shiny stones one day, and while I was naming some trout, he took off. I think I embarrassed him.”

“My horse had been with me through all my greatest adventures,” Liam said. “If I didn’t have him during my battle with the evil fairy, I don’t know if I would have made it out alive. Mark my words: If I get the chance to go back to Rauber’s castle and look for Thunderbreaker, I will.” He was interrupted by snickering. “What, Gustav?”

“It’s a bit over the top, isn’t it?” Gustav said. “Thunderbreaker?”

“He’s a powerful warhorse. What’s wrong with giving him a powerful name?” Liam replied.

“Warhorse—pah!” Gustav scoffed. “
Mine
was a real warhorse. Did you see the size of its haunches?”

“And what, may I ask, is the oh-so-perfect name of your horse?” Liam inquired coolly.

Gustav mumbled something.

“What was that?” Frederic asked with a smirk.

“Seventeen,” Gustav grumbled, a bit more audibly.

“Seventeen what?” Duncan asked.

“
Seventeen
,” Gustav repeated. “That’s the horse’s name. I didn’t name him. Every child in our family was given a horse when he came of age. And the horses were named according to our birth order. So mine is Seventeen.”

“My horse’s name was Gwendolyn,” Frederic said. “It’s not like I had any kind of history with her, though. I only met her the day I left on this journey. But considering the way she tolerated my poor riding skills so well, I have to say I grew quite fond of her. I do hope I get to see her again someday.”

“Isn’t that her there?” Duncan asked, pointing at a tan mare that was grazing just beyond the trees ahead of them.

The four princes stopped in their tracks. Indeed, the Harmonian crest was emblazoned upon the horse’s saddle. The four men crept closer.

“It really is Gwendolyn,” Frederic said in a stunned whisper.

“Seventeen!” Gustav beamed as he spotted his own horse. He caught himself grinning giddily, and quickly spat on the ground before anybody noticed.

“All of our horses are there,” Liam said.

“Well, except mine,” Duncan added, with some disappointment. If the others’ horses had returned, he expected his magical luck to deliver Papa Scoots as well.

The princes’ three horses (plus several dozen others) were tied to a row of trees in a makeshift corral.

“That’s a lot of horses. What are they all doing out here?” Frederic asked. “Do you think the Bandit King sold our horses to a trader or something?”

“No, I think Rauber and his men are using our horses themselves,” Liam said. “Look over there. And be absolutely quiet.”

He ushered the men farther off the trail and pointed out a drab canvas tent beyond the trees.

“You think some of the bandits are over there?” Duncan asked. The four men crouched low to the ground and slunk closer. As they approached, they could see that this wasn’t the only tent that had been pitched in the nearby field. An entire
city
of tents lay before them; too many to count. At the heart of the crowded camp flew a flag that depicted an old, bearded king being kicked by a giant boot: the flag of the Bandit King.

“I think
all
the bandits are over there,” Liam said.

They watched as brutish-looking men—several of whom they recognized from their time in the Bandit King’s castle—emerged from their tents and milled about, chatting and occasionally punching one another. As the sun started to set, a few of the bandits started campfires and warmed up blackened pots of gruel.

“They’re busy making dinner,” Gustav said. “Let’s steal our horses back before they notice.”

“No,” Liam said. “Leave the horses for now. This is our chance to find out what the bandits are up to. In these black thieves’ outfits, we’re perfectly dressed for stealth work. Let’s see if we can eavesdrop.”

“Look!” Frederic gasped. “It’s Horace and Neville!”

“Who?”

“The two guys who captured us back at that house in Sylvaria,” Frederic said. “The big one who threw the giant sword at Duncan and the little guy with the ratty mustache.”

“Oh, yeah,” Duncan said. “There they are.” Horace and Neville were deep in conversation, walking along the outskirts of the camp only a few yards away.

“Huh. I figured Rauber would have knocked them off by now,” Gustav said.

“Come on,” Liam whispered. He squatted and crept off until he was only a few feet behind Horace and Neville. The others followed, holding their breath.

“Whuddaya suppose he wants to do to us now?” Neville wheezed in his pinched nasal voice.

“Give us our old jobs back, I hope,” Horace said. “I’m more’n ready to be done cleanin’ up after the horses.”

“That’s unlikely, though, don’t ya think?” Neville asked. “He’s been torturing us for days. I’m still sore from all the noogies. Frankly, I’m happy to be alive. I’ll gladly scoop some you-know-what if it means my head stays attached.”

“You know, I never seen the kid
kill
anyone,” Horace said. “You do realize we’re workin’ for a child, right?”

Neville came to an abrupt stop. Liam did as well, causing the other princes to smack into one another and pile up behind him. The four men wobbled but grabbed one another’s shoulders and managed to stay up.

“Don’t mention that!” Neville barked in a harsh whisper. “You got a death wish or somethin’? We’re right near his tent. What if he heard you sayin’ how he’s a … a …
you know
.”

“A little kid,” Horace said.

“Aagh! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Neville took off his black felt cap and started beating Horace with it. Horace snickered. He enjoyed watching Neville get scared.

“Let’s go see what the tyke wants,” Horace said, and he started singing, “Snips and snails and puppy dogs’ tails, that’s what
little boys
are made of.” Neville smacked his hands to his head in despair.

The two bandits turned and entered a large tent. The princes sidled over and placed their ears against the drab, dirt-colored canvas to listen.

“You wanted to see us, sir,” they heard Horace say. As much as Horace liked to joke about the Bandit King for Neville’s benefit, he always showed total respect in the presence of the diabolical tween. He did not want to end up on the wrong side of one of Deeb Rauber’s tantrums. He knew a guard who’d once made the mistake of nicking a cookie from Rauber, and was subjected to a solid week of spitball torture.

“You know I like you two, right?” Rauber asked in his reedy voice.

“Uh, yes, sure,” Neville said.

“We do what we can,” Horace added.

“Now, I still haven’t forgiven you for that fiasco on the roof the other day,” Rauber said. “But I need a couple of right-hand men, and in this army of losers, you guys are sadly the best I’ve got.”

“Happy to hear it, sir,” Neville said.

Horace bumped him and whispered, “That wasn’t a compliment.”

“And so, it is with much displeasure,” Rauber continued in an overly formal tone, “that I hereby name you two Sir Horace and Sir Neville, my first official knights.”

“An honor, sir,” Horace responded.

“As my knights,” Rauber said, “you will manage the daily business of our new castle. I’m sure it will be a much larger castle than our old one, so I imagine it’ll need a lot more cleaning. You’ll need to get the kitchen in running order; make sure everybody—but especially me—stays fed and happy.”

“If ya don’t mind me sayin’ so, sir,” Neville hedged, “if me and him are knights now, shouldn’t we be doin’ something a bit more, I dunno, excitin’?”

“Shall I ready the spitballs, Sir Neville?”

“No, sir.”

“Now, as I was saying,” Rauber went on. “You two will also deal with visitors. I’m sure all sorts of important people from faraway nations will be knocking on my door once I’ve got a kingdom of my own. So you will invite them in for a banquet and—I don’t know—diplomatic negotiations or something. Then we steal all their stuff.”

As Rauber laughed, the princes glanced at one another with disbelief.

“I gotta say, sir,” Horace added, “this is a pretty genius deal you worked out.”

“I know!” Rauber shouted with glee. “A couple hours of guard work and we get an entire kingdom in return. I tell you, being a king is going to be a lot more fun when I have innocent people to push around and not just you bozos.”

“The witch said ya could take whichever of the five ya wanted,” said Neville. “Have ya decided which one yer takin’?”

“Yes. I think this kingdom right here suits me well,” Rauber said. “I’m taking over Sturmhagen.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Gustav hissed through clenched teeth. “We crush them right now.”

“Gustav, no,” Liam warned. He grabbed hold of Gustav’s arm and prevented him from standing. “There are four of us and, oh, I’d say about two hundred of them—far more than we saw back at the castle. This throws a huge snag into our plans. We need to change tactics. We’ll never even get the map if we have to make it through Rauber’s entire army. We need to leave and run to Castle Sturmhagen
first
to get reinforcements.”

“No, we should crush them now,” Gustav sneered.

“Gustav, listen to reason,” Liam said. “The four of us cannot take out an entire army. With your brothers, though, and your father’s guards—”

“We’re wasting time talking about it when we could just chop our way through this canvas and take care of the little brat right now,” Gustav growled.

Frederic and Duncan both made shushing noises.

“Rushing into things hasn’t helped much in the past, has it, Gustav?” Liam spat.

“So tell me a better idea, Professor Brainstorm,” Gustav said.

Frederic and Duncan tried to shush them again.

“I just told you a better idea: We go to your family,” Liam insisted.

“That’s pointless!” Gustav argued. “We’ve got the opportunity to take Rauber out now. Without the little bully, his army will fall apart.”

“It’s too risky!” Liam snarled. “I don’t want any dead princes on my conscience!”

“Guys,” Frederic hissed. “You’re being a little loud.”

“STAY OUT OF IT!” Liam and Gustav shouted in unison.

“What was that?” they heard the Bandit King call out from inside the tent.

“Crud,” muttered Liam.

Rauber burst out of the tent with Horace and Neville at his side.

“Holy cow!” Rauber giggled. “I can’t believe you dolts were dumb enough to come back!” He started dancing around and hooting with wicked joy.

“Split up,” Liam said, as bandits began running toward them from all around. He grasped Duncan’s arm and pulled him in one direction; Gustav grabbed Frederic by the collar and ran off in the other.

“Boys!” Horace bellowed loudly, his voice echoing through the city of tents. “We’ve got some princes to catch!”

“Ow! Both my feet fell asleep,” Frederic wailed as he hopped along awkwardly. “Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!” Huffing, Gustav hoisted Frederic off the ground, slung him over his shoulder, and kept running. Bandits lunged toward him as he ran, but each time one got too close, Gustav would pivot and let Frederic’s booted feet swing around to kick the man in the face. “Ooh, this is waking my feet up,” Frederic said.

Neville darted ahead of Gustav. He planted himself in the big prince’s path and pulled out a sharp, glinting dagger.

“Please don’t run toward the man with the knife,” Frederic pleaded.

“Just hold on,” Gustav said as he barreled toward the sneering Neville. Gustav yanked one of Frederic’s boots off and pitched it at the wiry bandit. The heel of the boot smacked Neville right between the eyes and knocked him flat. Without ever slowing his pace, Gustav reached down with his free arm, plucked the boot up from where it lay next to the groaning bandit, and slapped it back onto Frederic’s foot. He also stepped on Neville’s hand for good measure. With Frederic still over his shoulder, Gustav continued his juggernaut run out of the camp and disappeared into the trees.

Meanwhile, Horace bounded after Liam and Duncan. “You fellas must have really missed us,” the big bandit called out. “I’m touched you came back to see us again.”

“You’ve completely misunderstood!” Duncan yelled back to Horace, as he and Liam hopped over a series of staked tent ropes. “We didn’t miss you at all! That’s not why we’re here!”

“Sarcasm, Duncan. Sarcasm,” Liam said as he dodged a diving bandit.

“You might as well slow down, you’ve got no place to go,” Horace said.

Liam stopped as he saw a wall of bandits closing in ahead of them. He glanced left and right to see an impenetrable tangle of tents, wagons, and supply crates. They were trapped. Horace began strolling lazily toward them, casually swinging a huge wooden club—a weapon that looked large and strong enough to flatten a human head into a crepe.

“Throw me at him,” Duncan said. “Let’s see what happens.”

“That’s insane,” Liam replied, but he considered the idea. Liam generally wrote off Duncan’s belief in his “magical luck” as just another of his quirks, but every so often, such as when they survived that fall from Rauber’s roof, he couldn’t help but wonder a little. Duncan looked to Liam expectantly. “Okay,” Liam shrugged.

He took hold of Duncan and heaved the small man straight at Horace. The bulky bandit caught Duncan neatly in his one free arm and held him tight.

“Heh,” Horace chuckled. “Well, thank you. I honestly didn’t expect it to be
that
easy.”

Liam simply shook his head in disappointment. He made no attempt to defend himself as ten large bandits pounced from behind. One ripped Liam’s sword away as the others held his limbs down. Fighting was pointless, especially when Duncan was completely at the enemy’s mercy.

Duncan hung limply in Horace’s grasp, his mind reeling. Nothing remotely good had happened. Horace hadn’t had a sudden heart attack. The ground hadn’t opened up and swallowed the bandits. No, Duncan just got caught by the bad guy.
There’s no question about it anymore
, he thought.
My luck has run out
.